


The Art of Pretending

by Knightfalling_for_you



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: A few deaths are referenced, Angst, But seriously: angst, But they all fit into different parts of the poem, Gen, I know I tagged a bunch of characters, Not so subtly, This is what happens when there's too much grief and pain in the Arrowverse, if you think about it, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:50:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6874984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightfalling_for_you/pseuds/Knightfalling_for_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How characters in the Arrowverse seem to deal with grief, pain, and other problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Pretending

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Look to the sky and close your eyes.  
Pretend for a second  
That the smoke has cleared.  
Imagine that the drifting ash  
Is nothing more than a light snowfall,  
And nothing’s been burned.

Pretend that the thunderstorm  
Is nothing but a mist.  
The pattern of lightning dancing behind your eyelids  
Is only a flicker of a light switch.  
And the sound of thunder is only a door being slammed shut.  
Nothing’s been struck or destroyed.

Pretend that the quake  
Was only a tiny shift.  
The cracks you see are only faint lines,  
Easily repaired.  
Anything can be fixed with the right tools.  
Nothing’s been shattered.

Pretend that the crash  
Was only a small hit.  
The shattered pieces of glass littered on the pavement  
Are just tiny crystals, nothing more.  
The blood, sharp in your mouth,  
Isn’t there, it’s just a trick.  
Nothing’s been destroyed.  
You can still get home.

Pretend that hole in the sky  
Is only a pinprick.  
All that’s coming in is a faint light,  
And nothing’s being sucked in.  
Imagine you can fix the one crack (not two, not fifty-two) with just a bit of plaster.  
Nothing’s been ripped apart.

Pretend that the person staring back at you  
Is only a reflection in the mirror,  
Mimicking your movements.  
They can’t touch you, and you can’t touch them.  
That means they can’t hurt you.  
No two people are completely identical.

Pretend that ticking noise in your ears  
Is just the rhythm of a clock.  
There’s no deadline, nothing to fear.  
It’s not a pulsing heartbeat, quick with worry.  
You’re safe, you can’t be broken.  
No one’s coming to get you.

Pretend that straight line you see  
Is only a smooth road.  
The crests and peaks you’re looking for are just hills,  
Nothing else.  
There’s no beeping noise, no pain.  
No one’s died.

Pretend that you have all the answers,  
That any solution can be found if you search hard enough.  
Books, books can help you.  
Equations can fix your problems.  
They can bring people back, heal the emptiness inside you.  
Nothing’s unsolvable.

Pretend the train speeding by is just a breeze,  
A puff of wind sailing through your hair.  
There are no passengers or deadlines,  
There’s just a gust of fresh air, and then nothing.  
No one’s gone.  
She’s not gone.

Pretend that the birds are still singing,  
There’s no still quiet in the air.  
That break in their chorus was just a brief rest.  
They’ll sing again, of course.  
Canaries still fly freely without fear,  
Nothing can harm them.

Pretend every mountain is a mere molehill,  
Imagine your catastrophes are just small obstacles.  
Rewrite the tragedy or wipe it out of your mind completely.  
Ignore the obvious horror staring you in the face.  
And if you can’t pretend any longer,  
Do the only thing you can:  
Run.


End file.
